


A Man

by soupsalad



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, Mental Breakdown, Ouch, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Unrequited Love, hes having a very bad time, identity crisis, local man mourns loss of his new funky bod, morganas crush on ann is kinda relevant here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupsalad/pseuds/soupsalad
Summary: Morgana knows he wants to go back to the right reality, that does not mean it's not hard to let go of the fake one.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	A Man

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's so fucked up that a person whos smart as a human has to be a cat literally am I the only one who thinks about how fucked up it is on a regular?

He looks into his reflection's eyes.

“......”

It's him, for better or for worse. Standing in front of the bathroom sink he reaches up and touches the mirror before him, jaw tight and eyes red. Tears well in his eyes but don't fall just yet. With knit brows, he drags his hand down the visage of his face.

“God damn it…” He whispers, shutting his eyes tight and clenching his fist on the mirror. He thinks about punching it but he can't will himself to break it. He was unlucky enough, on the precipice of a breakdown, slowly remembering he was unlucky just by being a black c-

He doesn't allow himself to finish the thought. He's a man and nothing else. He sniffles and wraps his arms around himself, clenches the fabric of his shirt.

“It's cute,” He cries quietly, Leblanc is closed and Akira is out. He could scream if he wanted but he's a reasonable man, a reasonable man in a cute shirt. This fact is denoted by Takamaki making the comment the other day and reaching over to feel the fabric with beautifully manicured fingers. Lovely blue eyes scanned it and full lips smiled as she looked back up to him. He remembers being a man in love and looking back at her, smiling just the same. 

“She thinks I'm cute, I'm cute,” He shudders, tears overflowing now. “God-” He shrieks and rests his head on the cold sink, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly he knows he's going to stretch and ruin it. “God…” He swallows hard, tries to be quiet again, a civilized man who's always been himself and nothing else. He wheezes and there's an empty feeling in his chest like there's something that should be there but just isn't.

_purring may actually increase in a cat experiencing pain_.

The words pop into his mind and the recollection of reading them over Akira’s shoulder some point long ago along with them.

“Shut uuuup!” He screams and slams his fist on the sink, gritting his teeth to silence himself. Anything to stop sobbing and remembering. He digs his nails into his palms and throws his free arm over his face, leaning back over on the sink again. “Shut the hell up! Shut up!” He whines, voice cracking.

Akira isn't here to hear the command but it feels just as good to yell at the memory of him. 

**_“Are you happy with this reality?”_ **

He scowls. “Shut up, Of course I am!” Trembling he reaches up and holds his head, slowly rising to look back at himself in the mirror, face red and eyes wet. Handsome, tall, a model man, a good solid man. 

He rakes his fingers down his face gently, the emotional high that had engulfed him burning out and quickly being replaced with a strong existential dread and acceptance. 

“Of course I’m happy, who wouldn't be?” he lets his hands slide down over his chest, his waist, and finally they fall down to his side and it's like the screaming never happened, the only proof he had felt anything at all being his wet cheeks. He just stares for a while.

“I want to go back,” But he knows part of him doesn't. 

“...Why would you light your house with candles when you finally got a light bulb?” He asks himself, the him in the mirror just copying him because what else would a reflection do? Even with that being said, his reflection doesn't feel so much like him anymore.

The cat in his memory is a candle. It was good because it was all he had at the time and lament as he might its shortcomings it was great, just to be alive at the same time as them, as her, it was a blessing he thanked the universe for every day. 

He reaches up and watches his hand as it rises. He rests it on his heart, feeling it pound. This light he had now in front of him was everything he had ever wanted and everything he had accepted he would never see. Now it was here, he was no longer living in the dark ages of living by candlelight. This was the impossible he had buried, mourned, and let go of. Now the walking corpse of his old dreams wraps its self around him and he knows he should be disgusted but how can you hate a zombie this beautiful? How can you hate a reality where you might kiss the girl of your dreams? Where you don't rely for the rest of your life on a giant to feed, bathe, and care for you until you die? How does one hate a reality where they can be the man they wanted to be and walk side by side with their friends as an equal?

He reaches up and feels himself, his cheeks, his hair, drags his fingers over his lips, even savors the sensation of feeling with human fingers. He closes his eyes and leans into his cold hand, cradling his face with mournful reverence. He drags his hand down his neck and feels the pulse of this body and mourns its loss before he's even let it go.

"I should go to bed." He says still holding his face, taking a moment to soak in one last longing look to the man he wishes he were, but knows he isn't.

He turns and leaves the reflection behind.


End file.
